For example, in the past two days, I have had a nightmare and literally woke up scared, skinned my knee (with my combat boot when I crossed my legs, no less), knocked my coffee all over my computer at work and tripped on the sidewalk–and then made a bunch of noise, calling extra attention to the almost-fall because I was surprised.

Now, obviously, a big part of this is because I’m clumsy. But yall knew that already.

I’m not superstitious, either. So that’s not it.

Did you guys see that video of Kanye West smacking his head against that pole when he was out with his finally-divorced baby mama? I feel like that was a message, too. It was Donda West sick of rolling over in her grave and gave him the smack upside his head he needed. To tell him he’s effing up.

Have yall ever had instances like that? Don’t leave me out here feeling like I’m the only one who is missing the message bubble. And, I feel like this feeling has something to do with the fact that I’m dressed like it’s laundry day. Don’t judge.

It kind of works. Kind of.

The post Message! appeared first on Channing in the City.

I guess I made a face, I swear, everything shows on my face, and the man realizes I went the other way because of him.

“You scared of me,” he asked. YES, I absolutely am. “No,” I say instead.

“You ain’t got to be scared of me,” he says coming closer.

Cover me, Jesus. Cover. Me. 

I’m not, I tell him.

Wearing: Madewell sweater, Forever 21 pants, Coach Legacy Duffle, J.Crew Studded Heel Sandals, Nordstrom Necklaces and Nars Schiap

He comes closer, and I can’t tell if he’s homeless. He doesn’t have hole-y clothes on but something’s happening with his teeth. I can’t tell if they’re there or not. It smells like fart when he does move closer, but I can’t tell of it’s him–I know it wasn’t me. How you like New York, he asks. Fine, I tell him. Random question to ask someone but okay. “You go to that school across the street,” he asks, meaning FIT. “No, I graduated already,” I told him.

He continues to make small talk. He asks where I’m from, where I live now, how long I’ve been in New York, and I tell him, but I don’t give him my name. “It ain’t a crime to give out your name,” he says, smiling, finally. He does have teeth but the two front ones are crooked, all of them are yellow.

What’s your sign, he asks, still not giving up. “Aquarius,” say wishing this train would hurry the heck up. “I should have known, aquarius’ are strong,” he said. Oh yeah, astrologer, is that so? This is the second time in three days a man has called me strong, isn’t it funny the things we give off that we don’t see ourselves?

“I’m going to give you one piece of advice–because I clearly want advice from this man–and then I’ll leave you alone, Little Bit. Really? Nicknames, sir? “All that glitters ain’t gold,” he says and backs away. Duh, sir, I find myself saying out loud. “Everyone knows that.” “Nah, it’s more than that,” he said. “You think the only people that can do something for you are the ones who are dressed all nice, but that ain’t always the case Little Bit,” he said. “Remember that.”

The 1 train finally comes and I move down some to make sure I get on a different car than the one he’s about to get on. “Take care,” he shouts. “Next time, I see you, I’m going to ask you out!”

Yall. I think a bum just schooled me. What’s that story in The Bible about the angel disguised as a poor man? Is that what happened here? Is this a sign? Or just a drunk who wanted to get all philosophical and kill time with a friendly face?

Because after he said that, I felt horrible for outwardly showing him I didn’t want to breathe the same air. Don’t leave me out here alone, have yall ever done this?

The post Aquarius are Strong appeared first on Channing in the City.

…I was in high school.

I just dated myself like a mofo, but whatever happened to Nelly? He just hangs out with TI’s kids now?

The first time I really clicked with Sex and the City, I had just decided for like the millionth time that me and my on-off-ex were done. I had enough of his crap, I was put a random episode on that was listed on On Demand (you know who they used to give you like four at time back in the day?). It was the episode An American Girl in Paris (Part Une). There is this one scene–isn’t this how it normally goes–where Carrie finally stopped thinking about Big, she’s actually moving to Paris with her boring workaholic boyfriend, The Russian, and he shows up at her apartment because she hadn’t been answering his calls. Get this, as she’s leaving the apartment for a goodbye dinner with the girls.

<italics>This</italics> is the part the got me:

You do this every time! Every time! What? Do you have some kind of radar? Carrie must be happy–it’s time to swoop in and sh*t all over it?

…What? No, no, I came here to tell you something. I made a mistake. You and I…

(Carrie cuts that man off mid-sentence making me proud) You and I NOTHING! You can’t do this to me again! You can not jerk me around!

…Carrie, listen to me. It’s different this time…

OH, it’s NEVER different! It’s six years of NEVER being different. This is it! I am done! Don’t call me ever again! Forget you know my number! In fact, forget you know my name! And you can drive up the street all you want–because I don’t live here anymore!

I literally stopped whatever I was doing and stared at the screen. Who was this chick? Why was she singing my life with her words? From there an obsession was born. I made it my business to watch every. single. episode of the show, even going so far as to rent DVDs from the video store. Remember those places? One of my best birthday gifts, ever in life, was the complete series on DVD, my senior year of college. You guys know that what came to be my logo on the site is a mash up of my love for the show, interning in New York and that default picture I had for like, three years, I like to think all spawned from that moment I fell in love with the show.

That’s when I first fell in love with Sex and the City. What about you?

p.s. The Vogue that these pictures are from is one of my favorites, too. I brought it with me to New York

The post When Did You First Fall in Love with Sex and the City? appeared first on Channing in the City.

And really grateful.

On the way to work last Wednesday morning, I was reading Lean In, and I missed my stop. That has never happened to me. But between Sheryl Sandberg’s words and Beyoncè’s “Run the World,” blasting in my ears, I was having a the ultimate girl power moment. And missed my stop. I should have gotten off at 34th street but when I looked up, I realized we had just passed 28th street, I’d have to get off at 23 street.

I walked, but mostly sprinted the 8 blocks up and two blocks over to get to work, I didn’t even care, Beyoncè was still telling me that we ran the world and I believed her.

All things work together. All things.

I was reading Lean In cram-style for our book club at work later than day. I was really excited because what I had read was awesome–clearly, I missed my stop–but even more so because of the woman who would be participating in the discussion with me. I was anxious to hear their take on things. My bosses are both older than I am, super good at what they do, and I’m going to be honest, someone I aspire to be like.

Over lunch, they shared the struggles they faced,what they learned, and how crazy their lives look from the outside, but the thing is, it’s all worth it. It’s cool to be all go, go, go, but make sure when you get a moment, you take a second and realize this. is. awesome.

This is my moment and I’m taking a second to say, this. is. awesome–especially living in the same city as my friends. Right after I took these pictures I headed down to my fellow brown Upper East Sider’s apartment for her first grown-up dinner party.

What’s awesome in your life right now?

The post Lean In appeared first on Channing in the City.

To be completely honest, I really want to cut it off. Like, short, short, but I’m scurred. This heat makes me nervous, I need to be able to pull it up or something. Oh, I should mention that rarely, do I do my hair myself anymore. I’ve been getting by on event blowouts at work. But my hair was dirty, I didn’t have anything planned at work so I decided that I could wash my own hair. I’d done it like twice a week when I had a relaxer. Surely I could handle it in it’s natural form.

We’re not about to get into that good hair mess but I was confident I could do it because Lisa Price (slight #humblebrag moment) not only remembered my face but complimented my curl pattern. As I told my co-workers, yall may not know, but in brown-girl world, this is EVERYTHING.

I’ve been meaning to try a bunch of new products and armed with those, head into the shower confident in my future twist-out. I should mention that I have thick hair and started this process at 10pm. By the time I was out of the shower and had twisted up all of my hair, it was well after 12am (problem number one). It was storming when I woke up (problem number two) and when I untwisted my hair it was HUGE, plus certain sections were still damp (problem number three). I pulled some back into a low bun, satisfied and even sent pictures to my mom and besties to be sure it wasn’t too big and I wouldn’t scare the people at work.

I head out into the rain and wind. You see where this is going…

I finally make it to work, not thinking to check my hair when I hear, “Oh, honey! What happened?!”

I scared them. Cue wail-face emoji.

Here’s the thing though, I practically run to the bathroom only to see that it really isn’t that bad. The curls held and they’re just all over the place. It looks wild, but I don’t know that I would have seen someone (when it was clearly rainy and windy outside) with wild curly-ish hair and assumed some trauma took place. Sent another picture to my friends and mom, it’s higher, but I like it, my friends told me in group chat. “Too high,” said my mom. “Do you need money to get your hair done? Did you try to flat iron it?”

(The shade this woman throws… that’s a different post on a different day, though)

Aw, shoot. It’s that bad??

No, I told her, I wanted to see if I could do it myself. She hit me with the #oh.

Yall. Gather ’round. How are you doing your twist-outs? Is the rain what messed it up? Do I have to wash it and start over? Is my hair telling me #WildHairDontCare and I should just get over it??

(And shh, but do I need to get used to the weird looks at work?? Does it look unkept? You can be honest with me, I won’t be offended, promise)

The post Oh, Honey What Happened… appeared first on Channing in the City.

I’m not the only one, you can tell when something big is about to happen because all of a sudden people are changing into higher heels, putting more jewelry on, a brighter lipstick, er um, bronzer on their legs.

I keep an arsenal right on my desk: Laura Mercier  Flawless Skin Face Polish, Bioelements Oil Control Mattifer, Bare Escentuals Ready Foundation, Bare Escentuals Well-Rested Face and Eye Brightner, and St. Tropez One Night Only Instant Body Spray. Oh, and Kusmi BB Detox Tea.

What you know about BB Detox Tea?!

It’s the latest thing in skincare, a blend of matè, green tea, rooibos and grapefruit that helps to rid excess toxins from my skin and supports a radient complexion. Basically, it’s the ish and I just decided to start drinking it everyday.

That way, when it’s time for me to head out and I head into the bathroom, scrub my face with Flawless Skin Face Polish, so my skin looks bright, then apply a thin layer of Bioelements Oil Control Mattifer so the Ready foundation I’m about to apply doesn’t melt off in the subway. I brush a little Well-Rested under my eyes to look like I am not co-dependent on coffee and actually sleep at night before slapping–not really, I’m a laydee–on a bright lipstick and a few coats of mascara.

If my legs are out, and now that the weather is cooperating, they probably are, I like to spritz St. Tropez Bronzing Spray on them to give them that Beyoncè-type glow. Don’t act like you don’t know that means.

The best part, is that I can keep all of this on my desk. I don’t have to hide my current favorites. In fact, if I’m feeling particularly overwhelmed a swipe of lipstick does wonders.

…But what else would you expect to see on the desk of a Glam girl? What do you use to retouch your makeup after work?

The post From the Desk of… appeared first on Channing in the City.

You don’t know struggle until you’ve tasked yourself with drinking half your body weight in water–wearing a romper. I’m the kind of person who waits until the very last second to go to the bathroom.

The. last. second.

I stupidly wore this romper to work, it was 90 degrees outside, I could throw on wedges and a jean jacket and be good to go. Yup, it was all good until I had to go to the bathroom and practically get nekkid to pee.

Three times in what feels like thirty minutes.

I also should mention that I kept the wedges in my bag and wore the jelly sandals I was gifted at an Old Navy preview because I didn’t have anywhere to go after work and I figured it would be easier to sprint to the bathroom in flats.

Because of my stupid romper.

It’s not stupid, I actually think it’s cute but I’ll save this for doing hoodrat things with my friends over the weekend. I think it would look really cute with heels.

That makes more sense, right? And I would have tried the whole pull the shorts to the side thing, but knowing me, that wouldn’t have worked out so well…

What are you wearing in this heat? Maxi dresses? Rompers?

The post Stupid Romper appeared first on Channing in the City.

Um. Okay.

Who is going to appreciate when you text a picture of your manicure you stayed up super late to do? Who’s going to sit on the bed with you and cry at 3am while yall sob through Resentment? Brag about your accomplishments when you’re too modest? Take your phone from you so you don’t text stupid things after too many drinks? (Somehow, I still manage to do this, I won’t lie)

I don’t know how I would make it without my girlfriends.

I love Sex and the City for obvious reasons, New York, Carrie, her writing, sometimes Big, Carrie’s shoes, her apartment. But mostly, it was her friendships with Samantha, Charlotte and Miranda. I don’t know about you but each of them remind me of one of my friends, and together, it just works, it’s a family.

I’m feeling a little sentimental, if you can’t tell. One of my best friends graduated from law school two weekends ago, and I’m so freaking proud of my friends.

It’s nice when you meet people who accept you as you are and still push you to do better, isn’t it? Girlfriends run the world. Do you have girlfriends? Are you guys still close?

Excuse my potbelly and greasy face, it was hot as HECK that day and I clearly just gave up.

The post Girlfriends appeared first on Channing in the City.

Do you guys watch The Mindy Project? There is this scene when Mindy is dating this guy–played by real life bestie BJ Novak–and he’s like I like to keep my museum pins on, just to show people how cultured I am. I was looking forward to doing just that.

We wait in the long line (I naively thought all of New York would be in the Hamptons or Montauk and my friends and I would have the exhibit to ourselves). We finally make it to the exhibit after asking 5 people wearing ‘Ask Me’ shirts, who looked like they didn’t really want us to ask them anything, actually, for directions.

It was everything I thought it would be.

No, it was better. There was Alexander McQueen, Burberry, and Vivienne Westwood. It was raunchy, mischievous, and a little bit dirty. Too good not to Instagram. I quickly whip out my phone a snap a few pictures, other people had their phones out, too, so clearly this rule was just a formality, I thought.

False.

One of the girls I was with, a fashion design student with an internship at Kleinfeld, snapped a couple pictures, perhaps to sketch afterward? A lady next to use, legit scolded her, “They said no pictures. Multiple. Times.” Well, excuuuuse us. We enter a room with studded Burberry peplum jackets, and just too much awesomeness not to document.

“I just don’t want to see you with your phone out, said a security when he walked past me.” Cool, you won’t, I thought. Here’s where I got caught up: these two girls were standing beside me looking at another Burberry studded look. “I feel like I need this picture,” I found myself saying out loud. “Take it, we’ll cover you,” one of the girls said.

… You see where this is going.

I snap the picture and drop my phone into my pocket and turn around, satisfied. I lock eyes with the security guard, he looks like he’s about to walk past me. “All he said was he didn’t want to see my phone and it’s away, sooo, I’m good,” I think to myself.

Wrong.

“You,” the fake cop said. “Get out. I told you I didn’t want to see anything. Get out.” Now, I’ve never been kicked out of anything, much less a classy place like the Met. I walk out dejectedly, hanging my head. Embarrassed as heck. Another friend walks out with me and says that she’ll go back and try to reason with the fake cop. I find out while standing in room two of the exhibit, that there are 7 total and to get to the fourth, I have to walk past the fake cop that kicked me out.

Not happenin’.

He won’t let me back in, either. He got really upset when my friend tried to reason with him, so I know it wasn’t personal. Wrong place, wrong time. “…But she’s a fashion blogger, sir,” was her justification. Nope, homeboy was not having it.

So she collected our other friend, and I continued to shuffle out. Still so embarrassed. So much for my ultimate New York outing. My friends tried to make me feel better, “you stuck it to the man!” “You brought the punk to the couture,” they told me.

All was not lost though, we went to see the Impressionism, Fashion and Modernity exhibit, it was hot and stinky, and at this point we needed caffeine so we headed in search of nourishment and coffee.

When I taken the last bite of my pancakes topped with butter and strawberries, I had all the comebacks in the world. “Really? REALLY? You single me out of EVERYONE with their phone out?! You don’t know if I paid the full suggested admission or not!”

I didn’t but still.

We continued to laugh about me getting kicked out, and now, all of the comebacks I had, as we roamed all over Central Park. I can’t believe that I can walk to Central Park from my apartment. Or the Met, which, best believe, I’ll be revisiting that exhibit to see rooms four through seven.

Just hope that fake cop isn’t there. Or that my name isn’t on some list on banned patrons. Not that it matters (it really does, though) because, guise, I’m Channing in the City!

The post That One Time I Got Kicked Out of the Met… appeared first on Channing in the City.

Either that or get used to not sleeping. I’m so tired I could put my head down at my desk and sleep. I haven’t had a nap, an intentional nap, since I’ve moved to New York. There aren’t enough hours in the day for all the things I want to do.

Did you see Oprah’s Next Chapter with Jaime Foxx? He said something that really resonated with me. He was scared that he wouldn’t get to do all the ideas he has floating around before he died and I feel that.

I want to take a cooking class. I want to take a TV writing class. I want to sit in the park and read. Shoot, I want do my outfit pictures on a regular basis (#BloggerFail). I want to switch my WordPress theme. I want to figure out why my italics don’t show up once the post is published (that really bothers me). I want finish the three books that I’ve been going back in forth between depending on my mood. I want to call people back when I say I will. I want to master Photoshop.

Side note, did you guys see The Great Gatsby? There was this cute scene straight from the book, where that skank Daisy is like, “I wish I done everything on earth with you,” isn’t that the sweetest thing ever?

…Too bad she’s a skank.

Anyway, Holla at a G’. I need some time management tips. What works for you? If time grew on trees and you couldn’t fail, what would you do?

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